


Mermaids are Vilified Teenage Boys

by Loki_Anansi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Romance, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Child Neglect, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Geographical Isolation, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Mermaids, Novak is beauty wrapped in a 5'6 package, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Orphan Rowan, Rowan is an artist, Supernatural Elements, mysterious people are mysterious, thalassophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Anansi/pseuds/Loki_Anansi
Summary: An ongoing first draft of a novella of mine.Decided to add it here to keep track of my writingTrigger Warnings are in the endnote
Relationships: Novak Wilson/Rowan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An ongoing first draft of a novella of mine.  
> Decided to add it here to keep track of my writing
> 
> Trigger Warnings are in the endnote

**“** ** _The stars_** _are bright tonight_.” Rowan let the thought settle out into the drifting wind visiting the island below the sleepy individual. All the nonessential lights were off, the Lighthouse not needing to shine tonight, and Rowan took the opportunity to climb through the glass ceiling to gaze at the starry night; long limbs sure and steady in a moment others would shake.  
  


“ _The stars are bright tonight, and yet I feel not even a measure of warmth,”_ Rowan repeats the previous thought with an echo of sadness, adjusting ro-self until Rowan sunk into a soothing sweater, even more, to hide away from the chilly wind.

Rowan did not like the cold, in fact, Rowan could not stand it. But on an island set in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the cold was inevitable. So Ro collected every scrap of cloth that was available to Rowan’s weathered hands and created sweaters upon sweaters until Rowan’s bed resembled a carved out closet rather than the rickety mattress that it was. It had the effect of generating soft sweaters for Rowan and a task to keep idle hands busy when the day seemed to drag on.

And on an island like _this_? Filled with inverted halcyon days and isolating company, Rowan needed something to keep Ro’s hands busy. Enough to shake off the distressing thoughts rooting themselves into Rowan’s mind, causing weathered hands to shake, body to dissolve as the world kept on applying pressure to a bleeding stone.

Just that train of thought was enough to leave Rowan untethered from the safe building that was the Lighthouse, makes Rowan rise up to stand on a glass ceiling and look up at the stars with desperation and numbness fighting inside Ro.

“ _This island is full of hatred and disgust. This is no place for me. Maybe I should just jump, end it all and be done with it.”_ Rowan steps closer to the edge of the domed ceiling, toes curling to catch a grip as the teetering Lighthouse Keeper looks down from the celestial chasm to see the rushing ravine of the Atlantic Ocean. And just like that, numbness lost the fight as desperation and fear took a victory. With a choked off cry, Rowan stumbles back with eyes slammed shut as if it were enough to make an entire ocean disappear. 

In the process of moving back, Rowan trips and slams down onto the glass below Ro, and freezes as the contained ground below gives out a mighty creak. It may have taken seconds or hours, with Rowan in a frozen curled up position, before the glass settled with the weight of its frightened keeper. Rowan, with fists against closed eyes and tucked tightly into Ro’s knees, takes a stilted breath as the roaring sounds of the waves below soon lessen to white noise once more.

Rowan mumbles into the skin of Ro’s knees, biting lips making the words curve and short.“It’s the same thing, again and again, and I stumble towards it every time like a fool.”

**Thalassophobia** _\- an intense and persistent fear of the sea or of sea travel_

The weight of it settles deep into Rowan’s skin like a brand etched in deeper every time Ro is reminded that Rowan is stuck in a grave surrounded by water. It’s unsettling to the point that Rowan has to shield away from the water, cover windows with art until Rowan is lulled into a false sense of awareness.

But the knowledge that Ro is on an island, surrounded by the ocean, is enough to make the Lighthouse Keeper shake until long thin limbs go numb. But Rowan shakes those thoughts away, makes a tally mark inside Ro’s mind about that reckless attempt, and softly sets a cheek against a knee as the wild mess Rowan calls hair falls and obscures the rolling tides and the moonlight night of the island.

A calm settles, enough that Rowan begins to relax and enjoy the barely felt wind before it is disrupted by a low shout of surprise. “ _To the right, by the garden.”_ Rowan gets on Ro’s hands and knees, keeping a curtain of curls on Ro’s left side to avoid seeing the ocean, and peers down just in time to spot a figure falling over the edge of the cliff and into the rocks below.

A beat.

Then another.

And suddenly, Rowan is scrambling back to the glass opening, fingers going numb in the strengthening wind as the lock refuses to open. Mind beginning to panic, Rowan’s breath comes out weak and raspy, picking up speed as the lock clinks open, allowing Rowan to slip down the ladder and rush over to the winding staircase.

The time between reaching the bottom of the Lighthouse and tumbling down the natural pathway to the beach from the cliff is a blur to Rowan. Thoughts of a stepped over garden and the wind harsh against a thin body cross Rowan’s mind, but as the panicking Lighthouse Keeper begins to search the black shoreline for a body; legs going numb, fingertips going numb the closer Rowan steps towards the ocean, all thoughts reverted to echoes of pleads.

_Please_

_Please_

_Please_

_Don’t be dead_

_Please_

_They’ll blame me_

_They always blame me_

**_Please_ **

As clouds obscure the natural light coming off of the moon, Rowan’s world is seeped into darkness, making Rowan stop abruptly in the sand as Ro’s only way to navigate the blacken-sand beach is taken away. Standing there, wind rippling over legs that aren’t covered by a big sweater and threaded shorts combo, Rowan feels as if Ro was one step away from falling into nothingness. This close to the shoreline, barely feet away, the sounds of the ocean were inescapable. It washed over Rowan, conjuring up visions of waves just shy of touching Ro’s weathered feet, and with a shake in the darkness of the night, Rowan wondered if this was what death was going to be like.

But as the moon broke over the clouds, a wild sound rips through the air, causing goosebumps to erupt over Rowan’s body as Ro searches for the sound of the source. There, a few meters away, was a body half in the ocean and half banked on the sand, face up to allow the sound to continue. Rowan forced numb legs to cooperate and move towards the body. The closer Rowan came towards the wet figure, the easier it was to decipher the wild sound. It was laughter, incredulous but untamed. It still had the effect of leaving goosebumps on Rowan’s skin.

Coming up close to the now identifiable man, Rowan feels a sense of relief because now all Ro had to do was get the man up and out of the beach before anyone could point fingers and place the blame on Rowan. Finding a long broken stick, the Lighthouse Keeper goes to poke the fellow but stops as the man’s features come together in Rowan’s memory.

“Oh no…”

The laughter was slowly trailing off, and by the time Rowan reached the man, it was nowhere to be found. Instead, all that was left in its wake was a sluggishly bleeding forehead cut, a savage gash on the lip, a strange bite right over the man’s collarbone, and pieces of seaweed all around the man’s drowning clothing. The fellow’s eyes were closed.

Rowan cataloged all of the seeable injuries, a small part of Ro absentmindedly thinking if there was enough aid in the Lighthouse to fix all of this as the rest of Rowan continued to stare in shock. Because it was obvious now, that Rowan could not just poke the man up and away from the beach before going back to the Lighthouse. The broken stick falls from numb fingers as Rowan mumbles in rising distress.

“It just had to be you…”

The man’s - _teenager-_ face seems to scrunch up before eyes fluttered open to reveal unfocused grey eyes that sharpened upon meeting Rowan’s shocked face. A staring contest ensues as eyes began to trace Rowan’s sharp features. A wide smile appearing on the soaked figure makes Rowan let out an undignified choked gasp.

“Hello.”

Rowan’s mouth opens but nothing comes out as Ro watches Novak Wilson, son of the Mayor, start to lift himself off of the sand with an unbalanced stagger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to the time Novak and Rowan first met.
> 
> Novak- 11  
> Rowan- 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings in the endnote

**The first** time Rowan ever interacted with Novak Wilson, Rowan was drowning in a tidepool. 

The sun for once was out, making the entire island feel as if the world was just that shade of too bright. Made sailors grumble about sunburns as they trudge their way into Lucky’s bar for a break; Bartender smiling as their nose wrinkled at the fishy smell. But Rowan couldn’t feel the hobbled road heating up with each ray of the sun, couldn’t see how the flowers in Orpheus’s garden seem to turn just so to meet the sunshine head-on. Because Rowan’s world was filled with dark water rushing down Ro’s throat as Ro’s hands scrabbled for purchase against the rough rocks forming the tidepool. It was agony, made Rowan want to cry if Ro’s eyes weren’t already slammed shut. 

Rowan wants to lift Ro’s head up, wants to take in the sea-salted air that now felt taken for granted. But the hands keeping Rowan down took that choice away. Through the floating silence all around Rowan, distorted laughter filtered down to reach the nicked ears of the drowning child.

_ Everything hurts _

_ My lungs hurt _

_ I can’t breathe _

_ Why can’t I breathe? _

_ … _

_ It feels more peaceful than anything else I have ever felt before _

What felt like an eternity passed like a nightmare before a rough pulling sensation yanked Rowan back to a world of hatred. The first thing to return, as Rowan fell back onto the black sand and coughed out dirty water, was that laughter; high pitched and rough, all coming down on the gasping child. From the corner of Rowan’s eyes, Ro could see worn boots stomp around before stopping right before Ro’s face.

Rowan, once the last of the dirty water was cleared from Ro’s body, curled up into a ball as a ring of worn boots formed around Rowan. Through a pounding headache, Rowan tried to figure out what was going on, but the words kept on going in and out in a dizzy sense that made Rowan squeeze their eyes shut once more.

“....should we do next?”   
  
“Drowning ain’t enough?....throwing it into the ocean sounds like an idea.”   
  
“No way! Rescue would just….that Docter might find out.”   
  
“....the freak would snitch...It knows what’s good for it.”

Through the stinging pain of drawing in air, Rowan felt a rising sense of panic. “ _ Don’t throw me in. Let me go, let me go back home.”  _ A whimper escaped the child as a boot toed a rough line down Ro’s spine, pushing up the wet sweater before letting it flop back onto Rowan. It becomes quiet, as the wounded noise rises above the rushing waves of the ocean, stilling the pacing boots all around Rowan. In return, Rowan stills as well, not understanding what will happen next.

It’s rough and sudden, takes a moment for Rowan to feel what happened, like the first bullet entering the body but only the shock of it making sense. A quick curse, from one of the attackers above Rowan, before a boot stomps onto the meat of Rowan’s outer thigh. A muffled shriek breaks through the air before a high pitched voice covers it up.

“ **Shut Up!** People are trying to think, you  _ Freak _ .”

Rowan bites into Ro’s hand to stop the sobs that want to break free, and in the process, makes Rowan feel as if all the pressure in the world was filling into the empty spaces between Ro’s ribs. It’s hard, to keep the tears back, to keep Ro-self quiet as a scruffle breaks over Rowan.

“You idiot! Don’t leave any evidence behind!”

“Fuck you Matthews, what kind of fuckin’ evidence that I leave!?”

From Rowan’s eye level, through the tears, boots began to move around in an urgent matter before stepping around behind Rowan. 

“Your footprint dumbass. That’s what you’re leavin’.”   
  
“...You can’t be serious Matthews.”   
  
An embarrassed sort of silence follows suit before the teenager called Matthews mumbles about seeing it in an old tv show. The rest of the boots laugh, before a hand fists around Rowan’s soggy sweater and lifts the shivering child onto Ro’s feet.

“Forget about it, let’s just throw it into the sea and head out; I need a smoke soon.”   
  
Stumbling through the sand, Rowan mumbles out to the group of teenagers dragging Ro through the sand to the shoreline.

“ ‘O, ‘o, ‘o. Let me go.” Rowan’s accent rears its head, breaking off the n’s before Rowan can push it back.   
  
The hand dragging Rowan shakes as an ugly laugh breaks out.

“What the fuck? So the  _ Freak _ can talk!”   
  
A voice pipes up from the side, Rowan recognizes it as Matthews the Teenager. “Can’t speak properly though. Can’t do anything right.”

Laughs from the rest let Rowan know that everyone is in agreement with those words. Rowan ignores it, lets it reach Ro’s heart as Ro struggles to get out of the harsh grip. Which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Stop struggling, you’re making me lose my patience with you.”

“ Let go. Let me go.” It’s all Rowan could let go, sobs breaking through as Ro tries even harder to escape.

A scoff, before the teenager tries to order Rowan to stop, “I said stop, you-”

  
  
“Let them go, Caleb before I let Elias know what you’re doing.”

It stops everything in its tracks, makes the hairs on Rowan’s neck stand at attention as the hand unclenched and let Rowan fall where gravity dictated. It took a moment, on Ro’s hands and knees scrambling through the harsh sand, but once the dizziness stopped, Rowan looked up to see someone in front of the pack of cruel teens. It was a child, same age as Rowan, but different in every single possible way imaginable. Bright where Rowan was dark, short hair that curled around his neck where Rowan let dark curls reach to the middle of Ro’s back, sharp grey eyes that were unreadable whereas Rowan’s were wide brown that was a window to every single emotion living in Rowan. Looking directly into those eyes with a flinch, Rowan noted how they narrowed further before rising up to meet the pack of teenagers as if readying up for a fight.

The image of a small child going up against a group of 17-year-olds would have been hilarious to anyone that saw, but to everyone in that small pocket of the shoreline, the tension was sharp enough to kill any sort of hilarity.

The first move was made by the leader of the pack, high pitched voice with venom in every word, “What? You think I’m scared of your brother Novak? I couldn’t give a single fuck about-”

Novak cuts him off again, sees the anger growing but continues without missing a step, face impassive as his arms stick inside the hoodie he’s wearing. “Elias broke your arm. Remember that? You cried like a bitch the moment the bone snapped into 2. He has no problem doing so again, especially once I tell him that you’re drowning kids.”   
  
It’s like the air was sucked out of the world, Matthews and the rest of the lackeys shifted back, ready to walk away after the threat was brought out, meanwhile, Caleb flinched like he had been struck.

Novak continues, tone as dry as the heat of the sun, “So let’s get this over with, you and your idiots move on,  _ without _ hurting the kid and maybe I’ll forget to tell Elias about this situation.” He says situation like it was a boring affair, one that he couldn’t wait to get out of, but the intense look in Novak’s eyes said otherwise; the short kid in a hoodie with sharp eyes and an even sharper mouth can’t stand what was in front of him. 

Rowan looks closely, doesn’t give the teens any sort of attention, and watches as Novak’s mouth curls up just the slightest of things. It expresses disgust, means “ _ I don’t want to spend another second looking at the filth in front of me.”  _ And without even looking, Rowan can sense how much of it was enough to shake Caleb out of his fear.

Hands shake, before pointing towards Rowan’s shivering figure against the rocky sand of the shoreline, “It’s a  _ Freak, _ not a kid. Its the only reason why we did what we did. C’mon Wilson, loosen up, it’s not like anyone would really care about it.”

Novak doesn’t even dignify that pitiful argument with a response, eyes narrowing at the use of his last name. Instead, he continues to bore eyes into Caleb, Matthews, and every other cruel teenager until they all decide to shuffle off of the beach. Rowan watches along with Novak, makes sure the teens are gone, before the boy in the hoodie turns towards Ro with impassive eyes. Rowan just curls up a bit more as Novak gazes at the soggy clothing and the bleeding scratches all over Ro’s hands and arms, some even on Ro’s knees, before settling onto the bruising mark on Rowan’s thigh.

Sharp eyes sharpen even further before Novak speaks, voice just a touch softer than before. “You should go back home and get that looked at before you get sick.”

Rowan goes to speak, mouth dropping open as wide eyes go even wider, but Novak turns away before Ro could even say anything. Ro waits until Novak is gone from sight, looks around, and sees how empty of humans the shoreline was, and wobbles onto shaking legs before starting the trek back up to the Lighthouse.

Inside Rowan’s safe haven, Ro takes a bath, watches with red arms around equally red knees as blood spirals into shapes in the murky waters, and thinks about Novak Wilson. A boy with sharp grey eyes and hair that curls just so underneath his chin. A boy that stood up for Rowan even though others would turn a blind eye. A strange feeling grows for the first time in Rowan, continues to settle as Rowan dries up and goes about patching up the wounds as much as possible; fingers filled with tremors every time Ro thinks about how they were created.

It takes 3 days for Rowan to even think about leaving the Lighthouse, but when Ro does, its to watch the Docks for any new sailors or visitors to arrive on the island. Instead of visitors, Rowan watches Novak stand aside as an older teen beats Caleb into the planks of the road leading towards the Docks, high pitched cries ringing out through the air as blood mixes into the gravel below them. The sailors separate the two before any lasting damage, the teen who may have been Elias cursing up a storm at the whimpering Caleb.

Before running back to the Lighthouse, Rowan looks down from the separated teens to fall into Novak’s gaze, and stills as another curl make its way onto Novak’s passive smile. This time, it translates into a different sentiment, one that presses down on Rowan’s new emotion and makes it spread big enough to lodge into Rowan’s throat. 

It’s that same emotion that is making its way into Rowan’s throat 6 years later as Ro helps Novak Wilson into the Lighthouse, their roles flipped but still connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:
> 
> Bullying  
> Graphic description of a child drowning  
> Child Abuse  
> Verbal Abuse  
> Explicit Language


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan takes Novak back to the Lighthouse to clean his wounds.
> 
> Novak acts strange and Rowan gains some new experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings in the endnote
> 
> There is a line in this chapter that I just adore and I ended up writing the scene around said line cause I couldn't let myself delete it

**The key** shakes against the lock, skittering across before Rowan manages to steady Ro’s fingers long enough to insert and unlock the door. With a shaky sigh, Rowan takes a peek through dark curls at the slumped figure resting across the outer wall of the Lighthouse, taking note of Novak shivering in the cool wind as he wraps his arms around his waist. It took Novak looking up with a strange glint in his eyes for Rowan to turn back around and push open the heavy set door before gesturing towards the other to follow suit.

Rowan waits for the other to shuffle inside before locking the door with its two inner locks. The inner mechanics echoing in the hollow spaces between the walls, like the closing of the inner lock of a vault. 

“Heavy security for a lighthouse.” It was more of a statement than a question in Rowan’s mind, so only a quick nod was Novak’s answer. Rowan made a path towards the circulating staircase in the middle of the room, ever aware of Novak’s shuffling steps right behind Ro. With only the creaking boards and whirling ceiling fans to keep them company, Rowan walked up the stairs, listening for the squeaking of the metal boards as Novak unknowingly stepped on every single weak spot.

By the time they made it to the second floor, a storage room this time; filled with preserved foods and replacement parts for the Lighthouse, Novak was noticeably lagging behind. It was only when he cursed at the sight of another set of stairs that Rowan turned back and awkwardly advanced towards Novak. With arms stretched forward and a questioning tilt of Ro’s head, Rowan hopes Novak gets the question. But it seems like the injured teen immediately understood because Rowan finds Ro-self with an armful of Novak in seconds.

A cold and damp arm makes its way around Rowan’s waist, and Ro holds in a squeak as a feverish line of heat lands on his left side. Novak mumbles an apology that Rowan only half believes but lets it go once Ro catches sight of Novak’s still blue lips. With better support on Novak’s end, they both make it to the next floor in minutes. 

Rowan lets Novak look around as Ro gently lets go of him, and takes note of the small puddles of saltwater at Novak’s feet. Rowan lightly coughs to get Novak’s intense attention back on Ro and points towards the direction of the only bathroom in the Lighthouse.

“Umm. The bathroom is right through that door, I’ll get you a towel while the water heats up.”

Halfway through Rowan’s sentence, Novak makes a beeline towards the door Ro indicated, stopping to glance back at Rowan for a second before walking in, curled hair soaked. It took Rowan a moment, standing there with Ro’s hand waved in the direction of Novak, before straightening up and turning towards the little nook in the wall that contained the towels. For some reason, Rowan searched for the softest towel on hand but ended up being disappointed when the softest one was actually the least injured one; filled with small holes and even a bleach stain. 

With a deep sigh of defeat, Rowan walks towards the bathroom and softly opened the door. Without stepping in, Ro placed the towel on the doorknob before carefully began to close the door, stopping when a melodious voice rang out, “Thank You.”  _ Oh. So that’s how he sounds when the world isn’t on him. _ Rowan does a quick shake of the head and responds before the nerve completely leaves Ro’s body.

“ ‘o problem ‘ovak Wilson.”

The door slams behind Rowan as Ro’s panic rises up at an alarming rate.  _ The accent, coming out, in a time like this? Someone bury me before I do it myself.  _ Rowan speeds off to the kitchen before the urge to cover Ro-self in a mountain of blankets got the best of Rowan. Looking through the bottom cabinets reveals the haphazardly built first aid kit behind a jar of seashells.

Keeping a tight hold on the kit, Rowan placed it on the counter, right next to the pile of plates that were stacked precariously. Blanching at the sight, Rowan set about fixing the plates into much smaller piles on the small counter, mind wandering over to what else Ro might need to do after Novak finishes up with his shower.

“Hey, I’m out.” A gasp escaped Rowan as Ro whirled around to face Novak, freezing up at the sight of Novak standing right there in only a towel around his waist before Ro’s eyes dropped to the floor in shock.

“You okay? I’m sorry, I don’t seem to know your name.”

Rowan, blushing roaring under Ro’s skin, whispers out a response through a suddenly choked throat. “R-Rowan.”

A shift from Novak tells Rowan that he’s moving in closer to Ro, and it has the effect of making Rowan grip the counter behind Ro. Two steps, then another, and Rowan has a view of Novak being close enough to touch. A quick breath leaves Rowan and makes Novak still before leaning forward, just a bit, just enough that Rowan’s skin starts to itch.

“Rowan then,” the blush gets deeper with the smooth way Novak spoke Ro’s name, in a way no one has ever said it before, “Thank you for the help, and the shower. But, what’s going to happen now?”

Rowan chances a glance and immediately zeroes in on the thin trails of blood running down Novak’s chest, and instead of answering, follows the trails to their source and flinches back at the oozing bite on Novak’s collarbone.  _ I need to patch that up before it gets infected.  _ Rowan shakes the thoughts out before focusing on the rest of Novak’s injuries; a few scratches here and there that needed to be bandaged, and a few bruises forming around his upper arms. It makes Rowan wince, knowing that it all must sting, especially when the hot water was striking against them.

A tired but soft voice brings Rowan back to the present. “Rowan? Are you okay?” Blinking back to look into Novak’s eyes, all Rowan could say was, “I should be asking  _ you _ that.” Novak just smiles, lips curving in a way that Ro could only translate as  _ why should I care about me when I could care about you? _

Rowan turns around and picks up the first aid kit with shaking hands before Ro could overheat from all the blushing going on in Ro’s body. 

“Let’s go upstairs to get you some clothes.” 

It takes a moment of Novak silently gazing up at Rowan, before both walk towards the circulating staircase up to Rowan’s room. As they passed the nook in the wall containing the towels, Rowan picked up a random one for Novak’s hair, which was dripping water down Novak’s beauty marked back.

Novak starts to hum, a song that Rowan has no collection of, but it still makes Rowan softly hum back in response, and Ro didn’t need to turn around to sense Novak’s curving mouth.

Rowan takes it slow, but in no time at all, the two arrive at the opening of Rowan’s room. Only a thick curtain of velvet separated the room from the small hallway at the top of the staircase. It’s only with a slight hesitation on Rowan’s part before they set aside the curtain and go in.

Instantly, a wave of relaxation comes over Rowan, makes Ro steady and pulls back the blush staining Ro’s cheeks. Without looking back, Ro gestures for Novak to take a seat on the rickety bed, and goes to the large wardrobe that contains all of Rowan’s clothing and extra blankets. 

Opening the heavy set door leads to a loud creak echoing inside the room, but Rowan pays it no mind and instead, looks at the top shelf for a sweater. There’s two on top of two piles, and Rowan goes to pick up the one on the left; dark red in color but with long sleeves and a wide collar. But something makes Ro hesitate, and suddenly dark brown eyes are slowly shifting towards the sweater on the right; this one was a rich purple, with long sleeves and a black collar. It smelled like mint, and Rowan knew by experience that it was the softest sweater in Ro’s entire collection. Which made it Rowan’s favorite.

_ Why is it, that I have the urge to give Novak Wilson the softest things that I can? _

A voice rises from the depths of Rowan’s mind, startles Ro into grabbing the favorite rich purple sweater and a random pair of boxers and sleeping pants before Rowan can completely think on its words.

_ Maybe it's because he looks like no one has ever given him a soft thing to hold. _

Ro turns around and presents the clothes to Novak with a half-hearted command. “H-Here. Put these on, but not the sweater; I ‘eed to patch up your injuries.” Blushing once more at Ro’s words, Rowan tenses up and waits for the ridicule that always seems to follow suit when Ro speaks. 

_ Freak can’t even speak right. Can’t do anything right. _

But after a few seconds, nothing follows, and Rowan looks down to spot Novak looking back up to Ro with gratitude and a deeper emotion fighting for space in his grey eyes. They hold their stare, and Novak’s fingers clench onto the rich purple sweater as a shuddering breath leaves the bleeding man. As if connected, Rowan lets out a breath, but takes a step back, towards the first aid kit sitting idly by on the writing table in the left wall of Rowan’s room.

Novak blinks and his sharp unreadable eyes are back, but the deep unrecognizable remotion is still there, taking away the relaxed air in the room. Rowan turns Ro’s back to give Novak enough privacy to change, and walks toward the kit, laying out all that Rowan would need in order to fix Novak up. Gazes for the thicker cuts, bandages for the smaller ones, disinfectant spray for every open wound, medical tape and a large sterile bandage for the bite, and antibacterial ointment to make sure the bite doesn’t become infected.

_ But what if this isn’t enough? The bite looks wrong. I can’t fix that. He needs better help. _

So lost in unsettling thoughts, it takes Novak calling Ro’s name twice for Rowan to come to. “Rowan. Is everything alright Rowan?”

Rowan pushes back a wild curl behind Ro’s ear and nods to Novak before collecting the needed supplies and journeying over to Novak’s half-dressed state on the bed; reclining on his elbows and looking as if he was so close to turning over and nodding off to sleep. Rowan picks up the pace before Novak actually does, and sets the medical supplies down to Novak’s right, picking up a crooked chair to sit down on.

“Umm. Could you please sit up straight? I ‘eed to get to any scratches on your back.” Less worried about Ro’s voice, Rowan watches as Novak silently does as Ro asked, even lifting up his arms when Rowan began to search for the best place to start or taking off his heavy necklace.

The next 20 minutes or so are spent in silence, Novak watching with barely a flinch as Rowan clinically soothes every injury on his body, Rowan in return was trying not to shake with every accidental touch to the other’s figure.

To Rowan doing something like this, touching someone else without any sort of violence in either party, was an extremely unknown experience for Ro. It left Rowan feeling equal parts afraid and euphoric.

_ I am a being filled with unknown experiences, but this is not one of them. Not anymore. _ The thought is echoed in the press of long weathered fingers against the bruised rib cage of Novak Wilson.

It is only when Rowan gingerly makes the first touch to the still oozing bite that Novak snaps out of the dazed state of his, letting out a low noise that rumbled into Rowan through the places they connected. Rowan flinched back, thinking that Novak was in pain, but a hand snapped up in a quick manner to keep Ro’s fingers on Novak. They both freeze, Rowan looking from Ro’s place on Novak’s chest to see the man’s face becoming covered in a graceful pink that highlighted all the beauty marks Rowan could see at that angle.

“ ‘ovak? Is everything alright?” Rowan is the first to speak, concern apparent in Ro’s voice enough that it breaks Novak out of whatever was going on with him. The injured man before Rowan just nods and releases the iron grip he had on Rowan, arms bunching up before relaxing as Novak returns to his previous position.

This time, when Rowan touches the bite, quick and soft strokes are done to apply the ointment. Novak tenses every now and then but doesn’t react as he did before, leaving Rowan feeling a sense of disappointment that Ro pushes away as the sterile bandage is placed and taped away. With a glance at the leather cord hanging around Novak’s neck that contained a crystallized shell, Rowan leaned away and began to pick up the trash that accumulated. 

Not knowing how to break the silence between the two, Rowan packs up the first aid kit and mumbles about going downstairs to put away the supplies; Novak just nods as grey eyes track Rowan’s figure as it goes through the soft velvet curtain.

Body instinctively missing all of the creaky places on the old staircase, Rowan lets Ro’s mind wander as the kitchen comes into view.  _ What am I going to do now? What am I  _ **_supposed_ ** _ to say?  _ Rowan lets the thoughts run over each other as the kit is pushed back behind the glass jar full of seashells. With a sigh, Rowan leans against the kitchen counter and plays with wild curls that feel like silk through Ro’s fingers.

“Do I tell him to stay the night or go on his way?” Rowan spoke out loud, gazing out at the large window by the stairway as the wind whipped around, causing the glass to slightly shudder in response. 

Groaning from the ceiling made Rowan look up and track the sound as it stopped right where Rowan was. Straightening up from the counter, Rowan breathes out and goes back into Ro’s room, wondering what will happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:
> 
> Blood and Injuries  
> Treatment towards injuries sustained during the fall off the cliffside  
> Low Self-esteem from Rowan  
> Voices telling Rowan that Ro is nothing


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan is an artist
> 
> Novak says some rather ridiculous things and is jelly of a presumed-dead man for like half a second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings in the endnote
> 
> I have been waiting to write the last few sentences of this chapter since the moment I first thought about writing this story

**Stepping into** Ro’s room, Rowan sees no one, which meant that Ro’s heart rate skyrocketed to an unhealthy degree. Arms crossed, Rowan looked at the folded towel placed on the rickety chair and wondered what was going to happen now. Only to freeze at a voice from the right of Ro.

“These are beautiful. Are they all made by you Rowan?” The name was unnecessary since it was only the two of them inside the entire Lighthouse, but Novak seemed to find any excuse to say Ro’s name. 

Relief settling in, Rowan walked towards the huge display of collected art on Rowan’s wall; scraps of paper filled with monochrome sketches and explosions of color, some were of mythical figures and others depicted environments never seen before by Novak. But to Rowan, every single piece was familiar to Ro, crafted by weathered hands but brought to life by old memories and stolen stories before bedtime. 

For all that the Lighthouse was stocked to the brim with legacy items and fortuitous findings, these works of arts were all Rowan.

Taking a moment to recollect Ro-self, Rowan turned to face Novak and respond, only to fall silent at the sight of the now patched up man.

Standing in Rowan’s clothing, a bit too long for Novak considering that his feet were hidden by the pajama pants and the sleeves of the sweater were revealing only the tips of Novak’s fingers, Novak looked like he was one step away from falling into a dream. Dirty blond hair in a messy set of curls that settled across his shoulders, and half-lidded grey eyes covering the sharpness seem to always be present in Novak. The cord of his necklace peeked out from underneath the collar of the sweater, and when Novak Wilson reached up a hand to point at one of Rowan’s brightly painted artwork, the sleeves rolled down to reveal a dark band around the right ring finger.

All this and more were enough to leave Rowan with a voice silenced in Ro’s throat. It took a moment, long enough that Novak began to turn towards the other, for Rowan to actually speak. It was more of a croak than anything else really.

“Yeah. Yes, I..made them all myself.”

Novak turns back to the wall of art and traces the curves of a particular one, full of greys and whites. “This one. Who is it?” Rowan grazes directly at the drawing, at eye level while Novak has to reach up high, and maps out the same lines Novak traced and lets Ro’s mind remember what Ro drew months ago. “A mermaid. Or, one drawn from what Orph used to tell me.”

The mention of another makes this weird expression come over Novak; eyes widen and his nose wiggles before it falls back into the strangely open expression Novak seems to wear whenever Rowan is involved.

“Orph?”

Rowan smiles, eyes still drawn towards the chromatic mermaid as Ro carefully sounds out the name of the closest thing to a father Ro has ever had. “Orpheus. He took care of me and ran the Lighthouse. Taught me how to do it myself actually.” Ro hasn’t spoken about Orpheus in what felt like forever, there was no one around that wanted to talk about the missing Lighthouse keeper who left behind an unwanted child.

_ Always unwanted, always left behind _

Novak seemed to catch hold of Rowan’s thoughts because his face seemed to soften as his grey eyes filled with understanding. Rowan watches on as Novak lowers his arm and lightly begins to play with the unique necklace on his neck; standing bright against the dark purple background of Rowan’s sweater. “Mermaids right? My father used to tell me stories about them.”

Blinking, Rowan takes in the not so random sentence for what it was and replies back with the first thing Ro thought of. “Maybe we could compare stories then, if you want?”

And Rowan is suddenly so happy that Ro said that, because Novak lets out the widest smile Rowan has ever seen yet, and it has the ability to brighten up Ro’s bedroom like nothing else has ever been able to.

It takes the smaller man’s response to wake Rowan from the bright emotions rising in Ro’s body, “Maybe next time, when my head isn’t killing me.” and instead, concern fills the other’s body.

“Are you ok? I think I can find some painkillers somewhere.” Rowan cringes, thinking about outdated prescriptions Orpheus kept in the back of his dilapidated wardrobe, far out of a child’s reach, and starts to wonder if tea was a better alternative for Novak’s pain.

Rowan watches as the brightness of the room fades as a panic silently enters Novak’s body, tries to help the other as features become closed off and the sharpness in grey eyes becomes muddled in what Rowan instinctively recognizes as fear. Raising an arm in worry, Rowan is utterly confused as to what is going on, wanting to help but having no clue how to. Novak grips his necklace tight enough to make Rowan flinch, and he shakes his head as he moves away from the art-filled wall. “No! No, I don’t want anything for the pain Rowan, don’t give me anything.”

“ ‘Ovak, I didn’t mean to-”

“ _ Don’t _ give me anything.”   
  
Rowan tries to push back the tears springing up in Ro’s eyes as they lightly began to follow Novak, gaze taking note of the unsteady steps of the other. Ro didn’t want Novak to get hurt anymore, not in the Lighthouse, where the blame will fall squarely on Rowan and give Novak a reason to hate Rowan.

_ He’ll hate me like the rest of them do. He’ll take away the softness in his eyes when he looks at me, take away the only shred of kindness I’ve felt in ages. _

_ I don’t want that to happen. _

These feelings have grown too quickly in Rowan, but they’re in Ro, and Rowan can find no reason to push them to the side when it has made Ro feel more alive than Rowan has felt in days.

Rowan can see the moment Novak trips, can perceive the second when the fear leaves Novak’s body and alarm sets in, and nothing in the world would’ve been able to stop Rowan from doing what Ro did next.

For once, having long legs are a gift for Rowan, because it only takes 2 long strides to catch up to Novak from across the room and grab hold of him. Two iron bars settle on Rowan’s waist in the form of Novak’s hands and the weight of having someone in Ro’s arms unbalances Rowan. Before Ro can even think, Rowan twists and lets gravity take hold as they fall into Rowan’s bed.

_ It’s silent,  _ the first thought that comes to Rowan’s mind, the second is,  _ he is beautiful _ .

Laying on top of Rowan, with forearms placed by Ro’s head to keep some of his weight off of the other, is Novak. Novak, who is looking down at Rowan as if Ro was the who created the stars in the night sky and is amazed to be the one allowed to look upon Rowan. It leaves Rowan speechless, still on the bed as he gazes back up at Novak with wide brown  _ honey _ eyes as the man lifts one hand, taking his entire weight on one forearm effortlessly, and starts to gently twine fingers through midnight curls. 

Rowan softly exhales, lips opening up just the slightest, and watches with heart-wrenching emotion as Novak zeroes in on Ro’s lips. 

_ He’s looking at me like I’m worth something _

_ I want to be worth something, if it meant Novak would continue to look at me. _

_ Only me _

It might’ve been an eternity or it might’ve been seconds before Novak spoke, and if Rowan wasn’t already blushing, the man’s next words would’ve caused an explosion to appear underneath Rowan’s freckles. 

Novak leans in closer, enough that the room is blocked out by his curls and every single sense of Rowan is fixated on Novak. When he speaks, his words are smooth but shaky, as if he was keeping his excitement down by the edge of his control.

“Run away with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:
> 
> Panic Attack on Novak's end


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Island is full of hateful hypocrites
> 
> Rowan is just trying to find some happiness
> 
> Novak just Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TW for this chap!!
> 
> also, don't pay any sort of attention to the chapter count, I barely know how many there's gonna be

_**“Run away with me?”** _

_Is this what it’s like,_ Rowan murmurs in the corner of Ro’s stunned mind as the world holds firm in the wake of Novak Wilson’s plea, _to be left open by the world?_

To Rowan, the idea of escaping the island was nothing more than desperate fever dreams and recurrent reality checks. Rowan doesn’t exist outside the island; has no passport, no birth certificate to tell Ro who Rowan came from, not even a last name to place beside the first. If anyone wanted to off the island, it was either by Ferry or by boat, because swimming was a death sentence in those freezing waters. And to someone like Rowan, whose heart trembles at even the sight of roaring waves, swimming was never an option. 

Which left the boats or the Ferry and both options were disastrous. For Rowan at least, who was able to incite the island’s anger just by showing up in a public area.

So yes, escaping has been thought about but never truly considered. Rowan spent more time thinking about surviving and wondering if falling from the Lighthouse was enough to kill Ro.

The sensation of fingers softly running through Ro’s hair pulls Rowan away from dreadful thoughts and back into the real world that as of now, consisted of Novak Wilson and the heat radiating from his body. Rowan thinks it would’ve been enough to lull Ro to sleep if it weren’t for the growing anticipation coming off of the man above Ro. Rowan takes a breath, sees how Novak mimics the shuddering motion, and gently closes Ro-self off from the world.

“No.” 

It’s a simple word, only two letters, but it had enough of an impact to blow away every single piece of anticipation in Novak, leaving only disappointment and idle understanding in its wake. A hushed sigh falls from the man’s lips as he rolls over to let Rowan sit up, and Ro holds back the irrational urge to tell Novak to come back.

Instead, a silence resides over the two, muddling whatever easy atmosphere existed before. It was enough to leave Rowan uneasy, clutching at the frayed edges of Ro’s light grey sweater, and with trembling lips, Rowan speaks as if to fill the silence.

“I’m sorry-”

  
“I’m sorry Rowan-” 

  
They both start and stop once the other speaks, and Rowan turns to look at Novak, only to find the other watching Ro with soft grey eyes. Rowan doesn’t know what to do, in this situation or the next. The emotions Ro are feeling are a confusing mess that rattles every nerve in Ro’s body. _I want him to stay, but I don’t trust him._ Thoughts crash against the barrier of Rowan’s mind, leaving Ro mute with a mountain of words to say. The silence continues and with every second of it, Rowan can see the distance begin to grow. Ro doesn’t know how to fix it.

So Rowan presses Ro’s lips together, to keep them from trembling, to keep them firm in the wake of whatever Novak decides to do next. It doesn’t take long, Novak reaching out with a steady hand that doesn’t cover up the unsettled look in his eyes, and lets it fall onto the comforter between them; palm facing upward in a silent question that means _Meet me in the middle?_

Rowan reaches out to softly tread weathered fingertips as a response, looking back up towards Novak’s suddenly shining eyes as he gently links their fingers together. The air grows warm, and Rowan lets the tension spill from tensed shoulders as Novak takes the time to trace every single scar and scruff on Rowan’s hand.

This time, it’s only Novak who speaks, and he whispers like speaking too loudly will disrupt whatever magic is working between the two. “What will it take,” a glide from a smooth finger leaves Rowan scrambling to process Novak’s next words, “for you to trust me?”

Rowan goes to speak, lips parting before Ro even knew what Ro was going to say, but Novak isn’t finished yet and Rowan wonders, if it were the words or the rough timbre of his voice, that caused Rowan’s throat to dry up.

“Because, I mean it when I say this, I am willing to do anything to get you to trust me.”

Looking down at the pattern their hands make, at the patches of smooth and rough skin that mixes and matches to create something new, and wonders what was the last time Ro has ever felt so warm before. But Rowan shakes their head and hides behind a curtain of wild black curls as rapid thoughts start to encircle Ro’s mind.

_It’s too soon_

_In a manner of hours, Novak makes me feel too much, so much_

_When the sun rises and he leaves the Lighthouse, will I still feel the same?_

_Or will it be as temporary as the kindness he shows towards me?_

  
  


The tightening of fingers pulls Rowan back to the manner at hand, and suddenly, without a second to waste in holding back, Ro speaks out a challenge that Ro only recognizes once Rowan looks through midnight curls to spot Novak’s curving lips.

“Then its a deal.” And just like that, doubts rush forward because a deal implies a balance, an exchange of equal value; and what did Rowan have, that could ever amount to what Novak could give Ro?

_Nothing_

In spiraling thoughts, Rowan tugs until Novak lets go and rushes off the bed, struggling not to curl into Ro-self as Ro slides down a wall full of stolen stories and colorful myths. Through the blood rushing through slim ears, Rowan can hear a voice calling out towards Ro, but it’s only when graceful hands gently run their way through midnight curls that Rowan starts to calm down.

Trying to slow down Ro’s breathing, Rowan glances up through watery eyes at Novak’s kneeling figure, who only hums in response and doesn’t break the steady sensation of fingers gliding through curls. It’s only when Rowan leans into Novak’s embrace that the man speaks, this time with a wiry touch to his words. “Was it something I said?”

And Rowan couldn’t help but let a small laugh escape if only to feel the curve of Novak’s smile against Ro’s brow as the man lets his own reach down. _Because for one reason or another, he likes to see me happy, likes to be the cause of it all._

_It’s enough to leave me curious as to why but with no intention of breaking the spell._

Rowan gives a small shake before responding, “It was more of the realization that I have nothing to offer if this is a deal. I don’t have anything of value.” Rowan makes sure to focus on the “n” sounds, feels a sense of accomplishment when it follows through.

Novak hums, lets go of Ro’s curls and sits down on the floor to look up at Rowan through dusky eyelashes, and starts to point out every single thing Rowan can offer to him.  
  
“The art on the wall shows your artistic ability and I noticed the little trinkets all over your desk. It means you’re no stranger to working with your hands.” At that, Novak glances down at Rowan’s hands and Ro flushes at the admiration in those grey eyes. “I know for a fact that you run this Lighthouse by yourself, which means you’re a one-man team handling all the complexities and problems that come with operating a Lighthouse.”

Catching the flinch from Rowan, Novak flinches himself and then softly restates, “you’re a one-person team that is brilliant at keeping the Lighthouse running.” When it brings a smile to Rowan’s face, Novak continues on, “you’re around my age and living on your own, which let me tell you, is almost impossible for the rest of our generation on this island, who are useless without their parents.” Rowan holds back the flinch at the mention of teenagers but relaxes once Novak glances up at Ro and the look in his eyes is enough to steal Rowan’s breath if his next words didn’t take them first.

“And if none of that isn’t enough to convince you that you are worth more than what you think, what about the knowledge that you can always patch me up after future falls off the cliffside?”

A laugh, this one loud and bright against the dark boards of the floor, breaks out of Rowan, and if Ro had Ro’s eyes open, Rowan would’ve seen the effects of what that laughter did to the younger man. Instead, Novak silently struggles to breathe as Rowan tries to contain Ro’s giggles, and is utterly fascinated by the picture before him. It’s one of the first times that Novak has ever desired a camera if only to capture the vision before him in a timeless manner. 

Novak patiently waits until Rowan is calm enough to talk, and trails his gaze to the portion of the room that he could see from his spot on the floor. There was a tall mirror covered in blankets, by the floor of it, were two small boxes filled with a mix of oddly shaped rocks and small rusted metal parts. But what kept on catching his eye was the wall of beautifully drawn art, bringing to life beings that Novak thought only existed in his father’s conjured up stories.

But no, here he is, inside the island’s Lighthouse on the bedroom floor of its Keeper and feeling the bite wound on his collarbone pulse deeper into his body the longer he gazed at the twin chromatic mermaids drawn by weather hands and honey eyes. It made the dulling headache from earlier come back to the surface, but still, Novak continued to gaze on as an idea fell from his lips.

“What if,” the low but smooth timbre of Novak Wilson’s voice captures Rowan’s attention, just as Ro looks up to see his eyes already on Rowan’s form. “I add mermaids to the deal?”  
  
Ro already wants to say yes but finds the request confusing, and instead tilts Ro’s head and questions it. “What do you mean? How are they part of this?”   
  
Novaks focuses on Rowan, pushes past the pain, and lays down his offer before Rowan can catch the slight flinch he makes, “you know more about mermaids than me, and I’m interested in them. Teach me everything that you know about them, everything that your Orpheus taught you, and that’ll be what you bring to the table. So to speak, of course.”

Rowan, who didn’t know how much Ro wanted this opportunity until it was laid at Ro’s weathered feet by Novak Wilson, accepts the deal. Because if nothing else, it would mean Novak would come back around to the Lighthouse, would be close to Rowan even if this deal ends up going sideways for Rowan in the end.

A deal is struck and Rowan watches as a sense of relief spreads through Novak. Watches as the man gets to his feet and reaches down to do the same for Rowan, who clumsily takes the second offer moments after the first. But Novak is smiling like he just won the world and Rowan doesn’t stand a chance to not smile back. The entire room feels like its too warm, in a way that it has never felt like before, but Rowan relishes in it, takes that warmth, and makes a footnote underneath Ro’s heart so that Ro can never forget this feeling. Basking in Novak’s joy, Rowan thinks that it’s the warmth of Novak that is brightening up the room once more, but this time, it was actually the result of the sun rising into a new day. 

And now Rowan watches the transformation that takes over Novak as he realizes what the sun symbolizes, firms Ro’s hold on Novak’s hand as some form of protection before the young man moves away. Novak doesn’t seem to notice the panic slowly overtaking his body but Rowan does, and it only makes Ro want to cover Novak Wilson in Ro’s blankets because Rowan knows that it helps Ro’s own panic.

But the offer sits in the back of the Lighthouse Keeper’s throat as Novak fumbles through an excuse as he makes his way out of the room and down the various stairs circulating the Lighthouse. “I need to go before someone notices that I’m gone and worries.” It’s all that said until they both reach the bottom floor, Rowan almost crashing into Novak when the other abruptly stops in the middle of the ground floor.

Rowan watches in concern as Novak opens the double doors as if he had done it his whole life, but the shake in his taped fingers give him away, and Rowan opens Ro’s mouth to speak just as Novak does.

“Look, Rowan, don’t worry about meeting up, I’ll stop by when I can.” The _it’s better for the both of us if we aren’t seen together_ is left unsaid but not unheard, and the only thing that Rowan can even think to say as Novak looks up at Ro from the entrance of the Lighthouse is an old saying that Orpheus used to say when someone named the Madame came over to visit him.

“Well, you know where to find me.”

Rowan tries to crack a smile, and it must’ve not reached the eyes, because now its Novak’s turn to look at Ro in concern and step forward as if to comfort Rowan. But a seagull flying somewhere above the Lighthouse breaks the moment between them, and Novak is reminded of the fact that he needs to leave _now._

With a quick wave to Rowan and a curve to his lips, Novak leaves the Lighthouse the way it has always been for the past 18 years.

Empty, except for Rowan feeling like the world only consisted of Ro in the worst possible way.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: 
> 
> Attempted Suicide  
> Anxiety/Panic from Rowan  
> Minor injuries to Novak  
> Thalassophobia
> 
> Also, Rowan's pronouns are: Ro and Rowan


End file.
